STREETS
Volume 16, Issue 1
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Ink Magazine is produced at the VCU Student Media Center. 817 W. Broad St. P.O. Box 842010 Richmond. VA. 23284 Phone: (804)828-1058 Ink Magazine is a student publication, published bi-annually with the support of the Student Media Center. To advertise with Ink, please contact our advertising representatives at advertisesmc@vcu.edu. Material in this publication may not be reproduced in any form without written permission from the VCU Student Media Center. All content copyright © 2023 by VCU Student Media Center, All rights reserved. Printed locally at Carter Printing Co.
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Dear Readers, My mom rewarded me with Skittles, one for number one and two for number two, as she potty-trained me on Doniphan Drive. My brother Sam held my hand as I pedaled down Wolverine Trail for the first time on my Barbie bike. I texted my 6th-grade boyfriend “I’m breaking up with you” on Sunny Hill Court. My sister then opened our shared flip phone, saw the text and proceeded to show my entire family while I turned various shades of red. On Monument Avenue, I smiled from ear to ear as I read an email titled “Ink Interview Decision” inviting me to join the team as a general staff member. In this issue, we looked down at the pavement to understand where we came from and where we’re going. The streets led us to rowdy chickens, colorful playgrounds, and friendly strangers. In my photo shoot “Where They Lead,” I delve into the intricate notion of the American Dream. Although this aspiration varies greatly among individuals, in my shoot it predominantly splits into two categories: the urban dream and the rural dream. Personally, I envision a high-fashion lifestyle in a vibrant city. However, this particular shoot unfolded on my father’s idyllic, rural property in Culpeper, VA. Frankly, residing in the countryside surrounded by farm animals and conservative politics is my worst nightmare. Nevertheless, I wanted to appreciate and combine both into a surreal reality. I am now in my senior year at VCU, the time where everyone starts asking me questions about “where I want to live” and “what I want to do post-graduation.” I can confidently say that I have no idea where life will take me. The choices we make, small and large, impact our lives significantly. Taking a moment to reflect, I feel confident in my decision to break-up with my 6th-grade boyfriend. Curiosity led me to check his instagram, and it’s safe to say that our breakup was for the best. Our only option is to fearlessly craft the world we aspire to inhabit and confidently stride down the streets we rightfully belong to. As you run into your future, I encourage you to pause every once in a while and look back at everything that brought you to this moment. Did your younger self dream of where you are now? I would also like to express my gratitude to the Ink staff for their dedication and tireless efforts to bring this issue to life. It is through their creative spirit that the pages of this publication have been filled with captivating content, illuminating stories and thought-provoking artistry that reflects the diverse voices we aim to elevate. We, as a staff, reached new levels by considering design early on, working experimentally and keeping our minds open to new ideas and perspectives. This issue is a testament to the collaborative spirit and collective talent of our team, and I look forward to seeing it inspire our audience. I hope you enjoy Ink Magazine Volume 16, Issue 1 – “Streets.”
Love, Hope Ollivant Editor-in-chief
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HOPE OLLIVANT
CONTRIBUTORS
DIRECTOR OF STUDENT MEDIA
Editor in Chief
Madeline Bitzer
Jessica Clary
Elliot Crotteau
MONISHA MUKHERJEE
Roman Diascro
BUSINESS MANAGER
Literary Editor
John Gregory
Owen Martin
Jaren James
STELLA TESSAROLLO
Isaiah Mamo
CREATIVE MEDIA MANAGER
Art Editor
Melati Maupin
Mark Jeffries
Beaux Reeder
KOBI MCCRAY
Peake Webb
Victor Kuye
Photography Editor
FRONT COVER SYDNEY FOLSOM
OPEN CALL Oona Schreur
Kobi McCray
Graphic Design Editor & Social Media Manager
BACK COVER Sydney Folsom
ANDREW KERLEY Senior Copy Editor
LAYOUT DESIGN Sydney Folsom
JULIANNE LANE
Caleb Goss
Music Editor
Khoi Le
KAYANA JACOBS Fashion Editor
NAOMI LILAC GORDON Newsletter Editor
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Staff Photos / pg 7-8 Buried in Our Streets / pg 9-11 Streetlight Icarus / pg 12-16 PLAY! / pg 17-22 Within These Walls / pg 23-25 Which VCU Scandal Are You? / pg 26 Where They Lead / pg 27-32 The People You Pass By / pg 33-34 Whiplash / pg 35-38 Enchanted Threads / pg 39-40 Open Call / pg 41-42
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Written By: Monisha Mukherjee Graphic By: Roman Diascro
Towards the end of the Civil War, Richmond, Virginia burned to the ground. I always thought that the fire had broken out during some kind of battle when the Union attacked to take the city, but that wasn’t the case. The confederates knew they would lose if they fought, so they ran, setting half of their own capitol on fire as they went. They burned their own people rather than admit the truth: that the Confederacy had lost. It’s a problem that Richmond has always had. The reason Richmond is famous for its confederate generals is because the antebellum fanatics and trigger-happy settlers that were in charge destroyed every marker of Black and Indigenous history. They preferred to pretend they were here first and hadn’t lost the war, erecting statues of the generals who turned and ran. While the physical damage of the fires has long since been repaired, the self-destructive tradition of trying to burn away the stories, truths and lives of all of the people who lived and died in these city streets continues. Before the settlement that would become Richmond was even founded, this land at the bend of the James river was home to several Indigenous tribes, namely Monacan, Nottoway and Powhatan nations. Together they constituted the chiefdom of Tsenacomoco and lived on this land for centuries. It is even theorized that the Powhattan Village sat in Richmond, probably around Shockoe Bottom, according to the Envision the James Organization. When the settlers did arrive, the tribes attempted to incorporate them into the chiefdom. The settlers, however, believed they had a right to the land and tensions slowly rose until the death of Pocahontas, whose Powhatan tribe hailed from this region. In reaction, the tribes retaliated and many bloody battles broke out until 1646 when the tribes were forced to sign over their land, which now makes up the neighborhoods of Shockoe Bottom, Shockoe Slip and Church Hill. With that, their home was stolen, but it was only the first act of violence.
They were terrified of the fact that these people existed at all, having a vested interest in not just killing them, but destroying anything that proved that they were ever here. In 1924, the Virginia legislature passed the Racial Integrity Act, which set the standard that all people must be categorized as either “White,” or “Colored,” with any other race being completely eliminated. One member of a Chickahominy tribe, Powhatan Red Cloud-Owen, said in a Washington Post article that Walter Plecker, a key figure in passing the act, “told us we had no right to exist as people,” and “He tried to destroy a people like Hitler did. It was a genocide inside this great country of ours.” Many Indigenous people left due to this act, and those who stayed weren’t allowed to get married, give their children traditional names and were often separated from their families. This erasure continues today with many tribes struggling to be acknowledged and very few Indigenous historical sites having been preserved in Richmond. The Powhatan Stone in Chimborazo park is one of the only markers that the tribes were ever here at all. While the chiefdom’s presence faded away, the city, now sitting on their homeland, rose to importance, becoming the state capital during the Revolutionary War. By the early 1800’s, the former site of the Powhatan village, Shockoe Bottom, had become the second largest slave trade hub in the nation. The place was riddled with auction blocks, jails, burial grounds and hotels. After the war and the fires, Richmond’s economy didn’t die with the fall of slavery, but rather shifted entirely to become a Black business hub.
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This was notably seen in the neighborhood of Jackson Ward, which became a center for Black culture, with the National Park Service reporting a 90% Black population by the late 1800’s. According to the Blackpast Organization, the first black chartered and owned bank in the United States, The True Reformers Bank, was located in Jackson Ward. Richmond took a turn from the capital of the Confederacy to an epicenter for Black people in the south, with Jackson Ward being hailed as a “Harlem of the South,” and “Black Wall Street.” The sheer amount of culture, history and life that Black Americans have brought to Richmond is evident, yet their historical sites are not. The obliteration of Black heritage in Richmond is so bad that in 2014 the National Trust named Shockoe Bottom as one of America’s “Eleven Most Endangered Historic Places.” Attention was brought to the Shockoe Hill African Burying Ground when a woman named Lenora McQueen dared to ask where her great grandmother, Kitty Cary was buried. According to the Washington Post, McQueen came to Richmond looking for Cary’s burial site and found an empty field next to an abandoned gas station, also known as the Shockoe Hill African Burying Ground. Shockoe Hill is now thought to be the largest burial ground for both free and formerly enslaved Africans in the United States and has been systematically destroyed by the city since Reconstruction, which is now even acknowledged on a sign at the burying site. However it seems the southerners of the time realized that, unlike their settler ancestors, they couldn’t fully erase Black people. So, they chose a different tactic, to try to stamp out their presence and history in every way they could. While Jackson Ward didn’t have burial grounds to desecrate, it was targeted in a different way. The neighborhood was gerrymandered into one massive district to diminish Black voting power, sliced through by the interstate highway and even mocked through its name, with Jackson Ward most likely being named after confederate general Thomas Stonewall Jackson. It’s important to realize that both the settlers and the racist antebellum Richmonders were not just ignorant pricks with no interest in Indigenous and Black history. They were thugs who tried to bury these people on every street just because of hate. They were terrified of the fact that these people existed at all, having a vested interest in not just killing them, but destroying anything that proved that they were ever here. In the last few years, due to a lot of public outrage, and the continued efforts of the Black Lives Matter movement, multiple Confederate statues and mementos have been removed and great progress has been made to protect these sites. While this progress is amazing, the saddest part, to me, is that if it weren’t for the heightened scrutiny, I doubt anyone in charge would bat an eye at continuing to look the other way when it comes to the history of anyone who isn’t rich and white. It’s not just the destruction and desecration that is the worst part, it’s that less than ten miles away, a cemetery housing dozens of confederate soldiers buried alongside two former presidents sits; a perfectly maintained reminder of whose lives the city thinks matter. Many people say that this kind of burial of the truth is in the past, but it’s a tough argument to make when VCU News had to issue a public apology only last year when it was exposed that they conducted the procedure that stole Bruce Tucker’s heart for a transplant in 1968. Everyday another scandal comes to light, another apology is issued, and I’m left to wonder; do all these people really believe that these truths, these lives, will stay buried?
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STREETLIGHT ICARUS Photographer & Creative Director: Kobi McCray Makeup Artist & Stylist: Beaux Reeder Production Assistants: Jaren James & Beaux Reeder Model: Krishan Lewis Clothing: Blue Bones
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P
A Y L !
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Creative Director: Sydney Folsom
Photographer: Isaiah Mamo
Assistant Stylist: Kayana Jacobs
Models: Cayla Baez, Maeve Hickey, Sharon Plata
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Written By: Andrew Kerley
In the coldest winter of my life, I lost something. It wasn’t easy to pinpoint what it was, I just knew it wasn’t there, like an unpatched pair of ripped jeans. It didn’t really feel bad, it just felt like nothing. I was cold. I was ecstatic when I got invited to my first “house show,” ecstatic to live a new experience, to get my mind off things. I guess I was looking for what was lost, or at least, something to replace it with. I remember arriving at the show an hour early. Too nervous to actually walk up to the front door and socialize like normal people, my friend and I waited under a tree across the way. I guess I didn’t feel like I was “with” the punk crowd yet. I tried to put on a front of confidence for her, for our mutual comfort, but neither of us were quite as plugged in as my other, cooler friend who told us about the show in the first place. The setup inside was incredible. A couch was hastily tucked behind the living room staircase’s railing, and below that couch, a rusty road sign stuck to the wall, hanging on by only a few pieces of masking tape. “Yup, this is the real deal,” I thought. The emo-psychedelic feast the show treated us to instantly quelled my anxieties, and all of the bands fumbling with the sound system between every set made me feel like I wasn’t the only person not completely together. My friend, who was more reserved, smiled at me from the back as I linked arms with the crowd, thrashing to the most emotionally devastating song about tacos I’d ever heard. By the last set, I could feel every molecule of sweat trickling off my brow. I wondered how many bodies had rocked across those historic floorboards, “How many souls can fit in a living room?”
required to jump in, mosh and come out with a black eye. No one’s forcing you to get hammered or anything. You can just go and enjoy the music.” For me, the mosh pit always stood as some sort of symbol of the underground music scene. A big circle with people throwing their bodies, whirling their arms… The perfect intimidator to give someone a false impression of a community. Ben told me that “moshing is an art.” “There is an etiquette that you can’t break,” he said. “Don’t just start a mosh anywhere. The mosh is in the front and people who don’t want to be bumped around stay in the outskirts. There’s usually a chosen few who are really close to the pit but don’t want to mosh, and half of them will bounce people back into the pit while shielding the folks in the outskirts.” Ben was introduced to the scene in a similar manner to me, a fact I took comfort in. His randomly-paired freshman year roommate, whom he was nervous to meet, dispelled all discomfort between the two of them by taking him to a set in Monroe Park. His stories made me appreciate the grassroots nature of the scene. There was no orthodox channel of communication,
Then, the music stopped. “What? It can’t be over.” I needed more, more of this enthralling culture unbeknownst to me. So, I started touring Richmond’s house scene, hopping from living room, to garage to backyard. Several shows down the line, I met Ben Clark, a tall, teddy bear of a man who’s welcoming presence was infectious. “There is a huge, huge punk scene in Richmond and it can absolutely be intimidating,” Ben told me. “But no, you’re not
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you either found out about a show from a gateway friend or a dilapidated poster on the street, and you still had to find the address on top of that. In another instance, Ben found out about a show from his cinema classmate. “He said he was in a band, and I was like, ‘yeah, I love bands. Let me know when your next show is,’ and coincidentally he said it was that weekend,” Ben explained. “It was a venue, now retired, by the name of ‘Spiral Mansion.’ I got off of work hella late, walked all the way there from GRC and totally missed his band’s set. I still got to catch like two of the other ones though. I was all alone that night but I loved everything I heard, all the people chilling.” On every porch I trekked, I heard murmurs of this legendary “Spiral Mansion” like it was the love child of Woodstock and Live Aid, the progenitor god of all house shows that hosted the uncontested champions of the scene, “Ten Pound Snail.” “‘Spiral Mansion’ was a must-go-to,” said Seb Duall, the same cinema student that introduced Ben to the venue. “It was unregulated art in a free space. There were no real rules besides common courtesy and watching out for each other, which was a really beautiful thing.” Seb explained to me that when COVID happened, most house show venues shut down, most of the venue hosts graduating or moving on after two years of absence. “Spiral Mansion” was one of the only houses that offered a complete experience after the fact and, in turn, inspired the next generation of venues popping up today. Seb, along with friend Paige Advocate-Ross, ended up creating his own venue, the “Rabbit Hole,” in 2022. “It’s a support system that gives young artists opportunities they normally don’t get,” Seb said. “When you have a professional venue, you have requirements to meet and profits to make, but with a house show venue, it’s mostly free… We don’t want to get paid ourselves, we just want money to go back to the bands.” At every show I could feel the community’s roots grabbing hold of me tighter. I began chasing specific bands, “Parsley,” “Marshall Family Values,” “Los Malcriados,” “The Eye of Life,” “Shagg Carpet,” “Midnite Taxi,” “Circle the Drain,” “Tentative Decisions,” an endless catalog of talent only one to two people away at any given time. “You can listen to a lot of these Billboard Hot 100 artists, and that’s fine, they make great music. There’s a reason they’re up there, Seb said. But, to be honest, there’s some kid in a bedroom making music that’s f****** better. You could go to any show, listen to an opener and all of a sudden it’s like, ‘all my favorite bands live two blocks away from me.’ While everybody else is spending like $95 to see an artist at Capital One Arena, I’m getting a much better experience, seeing my favorite bands from two feet away, ducking underneath their headstock. The more you get into the scene, the more those concerts mean something to you.”
I eventually found my way to the “Rabbit Hole,” the final stop on my suburban musical pilgrimage. I showed up unfashionably early again, this time alone. For a while, it was just me, the moss speckling Seb’s back patio and the sweat collecting in my socks. Then, I met Jack and Luke. Luke Valdez was spending his summer in Richmond for an internship, and Jack Hanoka, a Richmond-area native, was trying to show Luke a good time before he had to fly back to California. The three of us hit it off instantly. Luke’s fresh, excitable energy reminded me of myself, and Jack was just the biggest sweetheart, even though the two of them met while playing an online game about ritualistic cults conducting holy wars against each other. As we hit the music floor, I watched Luke’s eyes light up as he witnessed the glory of a “Parsley” set for the first time. Of course, it wasn’t my first time. I was now a serious, seasoned “concert-goer.” I didn’t feel like I had to pretend to know about things anymore, instead I just genuinely knew. “I feel like music is such a great thing,” Luke told me. “A lot of artistic mediums are about decorating physical objects, but music is to decorate the air and the atmosphere.” Just as I was leaving the pit, I felt a familiar figure bump into my side. It was Neal Connors, a hometown friend of mine who I’d sworn to hang out with in Richmond one day. “I came here for ‘Parsley,’” Neal cried out. “They’re such a fire band. But I also came here because I love Seb and Paige. I love everybody that goes here. I love the ‘Rabbit Hole,’ and I love ‘Parsley.’” Neal and I migrated to the backyard and took the only seats we could find. While trying to ignore my three-legged garden chair’s wheezes for mercy, I asked him what about house shows appealed to him so much.
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“Bro, for me, it’s the people,” Neal explained. “It’s the people that you already know that show up to these events, and you’re like, ‘Whoa, I haven’t seen you in forever!’” Approximately 30 seconds after Neal said that, his friend Johnny greeted us from behind. “Hey that’s my boy Johnny!” Neal smirked knowing his point has been proven. “Whatever happened in your day, good or bad, you come here and it’s a completely new vibe,” Neal said. “Your day is left at the door.” Taking his advice to heart, I later found myself curled up against the fence with Jack and a handful of sweet strangers, dim string lights revealing only an impression of our faces. “You missed it! You missed it!” Luke yelled with enthusiasm, running towards our compound. “When I go back to San Diego, I’m gonna look for something as close to this as possible,” Luke said. “The music, the people, everything about it. There’s seven billion of us fuckers out here, all with our own stories. It’s amazing, right? There’s so much s*** going on. You can never learn it all, but you can always try to learn about people, what their deal is. You know, give a bit of yourself to them and they give a bit of themselves to you.” As we huddled around that divet in the dirt, those strangers became my peers. I recognized the light pouring out of them. I felt warmth in my chest, my gut when we traded our stories, kinks, trauma, aspirations and colorful bottles of miscellaneous liquids. “I like to go to shows because… I guess they help me feel alive,” Jack told me afterward. “There are a lot of likeminded people here that I can relate to and feel safe around. No one really judges you for anything.” He explained to me, “People at these shows all seem to share a checkered or traumatic past. I don’t know why that is, maybe something about the music being played is a nice reliever for people’s pain. These shows always leave me feeling pretty well-off for a week or two after.”
if that’s what you’re looking for.’ He was like, ‘F*** it, I’ll take it.’” When he didn’t like the CBD cigarette, Jack offered to return the dollar, but the man refused. Despite the failed transaction, they still sat around the fire together. Maybe they did a little bit of that “sharing themselves with each other” Luke was going on about. Jack told me, “He was talking about how he didn’t want to be a part of the ‘system.’ He wanted to get his master’s in engineering just so when he wandered the world and people would accuse him of being an idiot, he could be like, ‘Oh yeah? I have a master’s degree!’ I don’t know if he’s actually following through with his plan, but I respect it.” “I guess I’m also just kind-of stuck,” Jack said. “Like a lot of people, I’m just surviving. They’re either scared to deviate from the norm or, in my case, working an eight to five job. I’m in this hole that isn’t going anywhere.” “I wonder if my nihilism is just part of growing up. I wonder if this whole outlook is just a phase resulting from our crushing world. Maybe, eventually, we’ll figure things out. I do believe that people are ruining everything, but I also simultaneously believe, as I come across them, in individual people and their ability to be good. I guess it’s events like these that make you appreciate living and its little moments of light.” I think my brain will forever be imprinted with the memory of that night, all of the wonderful people I met, how we laid ourselves around that grassy garden gulch like logs in a bonfire. I still keep in touch with most of them, Jack and I even try to go to every “Rabbit Hole” event together. I’m grateful for his company, his warmth. Whenever I return there and see him, Neal and Seb, all of them now familiar characters, it reaffirms my faith in the earth’s tendency to always deliver another gift, another reason to keep going. No matter what’s going on in the world, big or small, no matter how scary the events of my own life can feel or how anxiety-inducing the situations I put myself in are, there will always be some solace. There will always be a place for me, within those walls.
“When I moved out of my dad’s place, the first safe space I’ve ever had, my body’s reaction was to never leave,” Jack said. “I was terrified of going outside. I think I started going to house shows to hold myself up socially. But, once I realized that everyone here has been in a similar position, it was like, ‘yeah, we’re all a little bit f***** up, and that’s okay.’ It’s a good feeling of comradery, knowing that we’re all in the same boat.” One of the stories Jack told me really stuck with me. At another show, a guy was going around and asking people if he could buy a cigarette for $1. “Either no one had one, or no one felt like giving him one,” Jack recalled. “So I was like, ‘I have a CBD one, I don’t know
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START HERE:
WHAT DO YOU LIKE TO DO ON WEEKENDS?
Go out with your friends WHAT DO YOU ALL LIKE TO DO FOR FUN?
Pay $14 each for lattes that tastes like mud and glitter
1
2
Lie in the grass of Monroe Park until the earth’s roots bind you
AN ENVIRONMENTALIST APPROACHES YOU AND ASKS IF YOU’D LIKE TO SIGN UP FOR THEIR ORGNANIZATION’S INTEREST LETTER. WHAT DO YOU DO?
Knock the clipboard out of their hands and run away, fearing for your puny life
Stay inside
Desperatley refreshing Canvas until the page updates Give them a fake email in order to avoid committment
WHAT DOES “STAYING IN” LOOK LIKE FOR YOU? Rewatching compilations of Bad Girls Club until your eyes glaze over and your bedroom reeks of stale salt and vinegar chips
5
YOU’RE LAYING IN BED THAT NIGHT AND CAN’T SLEEP. WHAT DO YOU DO TO CALM DOWN?
4
You treat yourself to some retail therapy: SHIEN, Temu, Amazon. The workers may be suffering but your t****** are about to be popping!
You put your phone on do not disturb and hope everything just goes away by itself
3
WHICH VCU SCANDAL ARE YOU? Written By: Naomi Lilac Gordon
YOU ARE:
YOU ARE:
YOU ARE:
YOU ARE:
YOU ARE:
1 THE GENTRIFICATION. 2 ARRESTING STUDENT JUST... ALL OF IT
PROTESTERS
3 RACIAL LITERACY
4 FOCUSED INQUIRY
5 JOHNSON
VCU’s rapid expansion has contributed to the rising prices of real estate in central Richmond. Nearly one fifth of the Black population in Jackson Ward moved out between 2000 and 2010.
Student protesters were detained, arrested and brutalized by VCU Police during the summer 2020 protests. The News Editor of The CT at the time was also tear gassed and detained.
In July 2023, after three years of work, VCU postponed a requirement that would have had all students take a course on race and racism in the United States.
Before the fall 2023 semester, VCU laid off 14 Focused Inquiry professors. In the same year, VCU raised tuition by 3%. The year prior, President Rao received an 8% pay raise.
Over 400 students were displaced from VCU’s Johnson Hall due to concerning levels of mold. Multiple students reported sickly side effects. To this day, Johnson Hall remains closed.
Gosh, living in a city sure is magical, huh? You wake up every morning, get your vanilla lavender latte and thrift exclusively at vintage consignment shops. Yeah, Richmond has some houselessness, litter and graffiti that kinda bums the vibe of your sepia-toned Instagram feed. But don’t worry, you’re helping clean up the city, one $20 salad at a time.
You don’t want to play devil’s advocate, but everyone is just so sensitive these days… You can’t say anything anymore without facing the woke left’s wrath. Really makes a guy wonder who the real fascists are. All this talk about “white privilege” and “defunding the police,” just makes people feel bad for being American. Can’t you just live?
Okay, that Twitter— sorry, X—thread about how you’re problematic is totally f*****. You post social justice infographics on your story, and you listen to SZA! It’s not your fault that your parents are rich, white, property developers, and it’s just a coincidence that all your friends are also all white NoVA VCUarts majors. You’re doing your best, and you’d figure it out if everyone just stopped yelling at you, okay!?
While the rest of the zoomers are focused on finding purpose in the world, you know what really matters: stuff. LED mushroom light? Check. Paying your rent? Maybe later. Viral SKIMS bodysuit? Already got it. Groceries? You wouldn’t be caught dead in Kroger. Your friends say it’s unhealthy, but you heard Lizzo talking about self care once. Who needs connection when you can fill the void with the latest microtrend?
CANCELLATION
LAYOFF
MOLD
You get a bad reputation, but you’re really just a sweet homebody. I mean sure, you don’t shower very often, you drop dandruff flakes wherever you walk and your BO enters the room before you do, but your funk is your spunk! Embrace it! Don’t listen to other peoples’ bad attitudes, or their noses.
(Sources: Richmond Times-Dispatch, WRIC, U.S. Press Freedom Tracker. National Community Reinvestment Coalition. 2007-2023)
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WHERE THEY LEAD
Photographer: Melati Maupin Creative Director & Stylist: Hope Ollivant Production Assistant: Sydney Folsom Models: Nichole Onuegbu & Suong Han Clothing: ap0cene Designers: 604SERVICE, Erica Fascendini, House of Rubber, Hyperobjects, Laugahey, Marina Eerrie, Mifig, Swordhearted, ToileStudios
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Written By: Peake Webb
The 15-inch hunting knife sheathed and hanging from his hip was the first thing that caught my attention; then the top of the backpacking sack sticking out over his head. He told me his name was Chris. He came up to me outside of the Student Commons to ask about the Rocky brand work pants I was wearing– I got them from Fantastic Thrift. I have a hard time turning away from people– Mormons in Monroe Park, frat boys selling Squishmallows outside Shafer, my freshman year philosophy classmate asking for a cigarette near Cabell–and now Chris, a traveling train-hopper stopping in Richmond for the fall. After our conversation about pants we continued to talk for hours– about traveling, writing, drugs and other things. Chris spoke about being brushed off in public, different characters he met while riding trains across the country, an old romantic partner on the West Coast. The most memorable thing he said to me was that, to him, trains were a maternal figure; his great facilitator. They’d taken care of him, and in turn, become something bigger than a mode of transportation. Trains had been a way to find community in different states. Things like this happen to me a lot. I’ll bump into someone I’ve never met before and a conversation brews, taking hold of the both of us. I’m desperate for the dance of temporary mutual understanding– I feel like I’ve never had enough of it, and the past few years, it’s seemed like everyone has been talking about feeling lonelier. A January 2023 PBS News segment covered this topic explicitly, developing on the fact that rates of loneliness have been linearly increasing since the 70’s– but the way loneliness manifests for most Americans is a deceptive, cyclical image. Waking up to go to work, then maybe a trip to the store or gym, then getting home tired with only enough energy for a quick meal and some form of media, all in the absence of meaningful social interaction is a common routine. A life without a home, family or social media sounds like a more isolated life, right? Coming out of our state of emergency, the previous obstacles for social interaction are only exacerbated. Our communication skills are dulled from being underutilized. The latest U.S. Census shows that Americans have been by themselves and away from friends more often since before the Pandemic. As a collective, we’re struggling, and when it comes to opportunities for socializing in a meaningful way, the world is as hostile as ever. When you’re in public, there’s an expectation to perform to unspoken rules– I think most people are aware of how they get in the way of being genuine. In today’s era of career influencers, AI generated content and the scandals surrounding both, people are even more obsessed with absolute truths and objective identity. You will be who people think you are to them, unless you’re lucky enough to get a chance to show them otherwise. At VCU specifically, I remember my Freshman year, greeting people by their Instagram handles– our projected identities. Pages of photos portraying a crafted image; attempts to define ourselves before other people did it for us. Now my handle is just my name.
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Along with our production-consumption based culture, there are also technological obstacles in the way of getting people’s attention– airpods seemingly closing every other person you see off from the physical world, tiktoks filling dead air. Now, a simple question could be an interruption, reduced to something worth less attention than a Youtube short. Decades ago, you’d circumvent the “burden” of looking for conversation by going to a social hub like a mall, park, or library. In 2023, quality places to spend time without spending money, unaffected by excessive government oversight, are rare. These places, coined “third spaces” by author Ray Oldenburg, are places that someone goes to in order to be in public recreationally. A third space isn’t the home you live in or the place you work; it’s where you go to make relationships and be in a community. In his book “Bowling Alone,” political scientist Robert Putnam expands on the idea of third spaces being crucial to a healthy society as he tracks American decline in community involvement. Putnam takes a specific interest in the fall of “social capital,” which is the resource network a person gains from their personal relationships and connections– a direct link between being connected to other people and living more comfortably. However, “Bowling Alone” was published in 2000, and American social lives are in a much more dire situation now. Even if shopping malls weren’t being vacated en masse, even if phones weren’t so ingrained into our lives as moment-to-moment experiences, even if people were, as a whole, less dogmatic about whose identity is what– we all don’t have enough time, or food, or money, or energy to make socializing such a priority. We can’t get to the right places to be in to have a new relationship or good conversation fall into our laps. Under uncompromising conditions, I think the solution is to look for interaction in the places we all already have to be. When I think back to meeting Chris, I think about how trains had expanded from just transportation to his lifeline. Still living in the city I met him in, it’s hard not to imagine the streets expanding– morphing from journey to destination. The philosopher Alan Watts has this longwinded quote about how people are a part of the Big Bang that’s still in progress. I can’t help but think about it when I think about my relationship with relationships, with conversations. I have a hard time turning away from people– I feel like the people I pass on the street are too good to not pay at least some attention to. Some of the closest people to you in your life were strangers once. Who would you lose if you never had the chance to bump into them? “When I meet you, I see not just what you define yourself as Mr. so-and- so, Ms. so-and-so, Mrs. so-and-so– I see every one of you as the primordial energy of the universe coming on at me in this particular way. I know I’m that, too. But we’ve learned to define ourselves as separate from it.”
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WHIPLASH Interview By: Madeline Bitzer
Photography By: Elliot Crotteau
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Kathleen Macias is a professional roller skater traveling the world, playing for different teams and teaching others to follow suit. Based in Richmond, she strives to foster diversity and a sense of community for the next, and current, generation of roller skaters. M: Tell me about how you started skateboarding. How old were you? Did you have a friend or mentor to teach you? K: So, I got into skateboarding because of roller skating. I started roller skating again, as an adult, when I was 19 by joining a local roller derby league called the “Rocktown Rollers.” At the time, there had been this emergence of women in skate parks that began in New Zealand. It [roller skating] was becoming this viral sensation. It had been around since before the 70s, but now, during the time of social media, it started to pick up again. So, one day, I was trying to do some cross training, skating around a random local park that happened to be empty. I decided I would “just try out the ramps” and, suddenly, it’s been over 10 years. I’ve been fortunate enough to travel the world, skate for a couple of teams and coach internationally. It’s been amazing and a really great part of my life. M: So is roller skating your full time job?
K: I think it’s really flourishing, and at the same time, there is a lot of queer acceptance in the roller skating community. I feel like the folks I skate with are all very diverse and comforting. We’re all different. I’m a very advanced skater, but I have friends that, you know, maybe put on their skates once every couple of months. They get shy about it, of course, but then we always end up having a great time. It’s much more about supporting each other... Four or five years ago, roller skating and skateboarding really exploded. Some of that had to do with the pandemic and people purchasing roller skates. But, for skateboarders, a lot of it had to do with the fact that many city properties no longer had tech security available. M: How do you think skateboarding and roller skating will look in the future? K: I feel like there are folks, like me, who have no intention to stop anytime soon. It’ll keep expanding... In the community, we’re actually seeing an increase in people trying to do both roller skating and inline skating, which hasn’t really been popular since the 90s. So, there’s a lot of conversation around [the question], “Will roller skating have a situation like what happened with inlines in the 90s, where it burns out for a little bit and then sees a resurgence, or, is it here to stay?” I take a lot of pride in the fact that the people at the skatepark, whether they’re skateboarders or BMX riders, are my friends. I always feel personally welcome and safe.
K: I wish. I would say it’s a bit more than just a “side hustle” because I treat my day job, a nonprofit, as what keeps me able to skate. I’m very much a work-to-live person, not a live-to-work person. I never reach a ton of profit. When I go to a place to coach, or just to experience a new park, I usually reach out to local folk like, “Hey, does anyone have a couch I can crash on?” If I’m being paid, all I ask is that they help me cover basic flights and meals and stuff. I really enjoy just getting to go to new places, skate and meet different people along the way, more than I care about the financial aspect. M: So roller skating gave you the means to travel. K: Unfortunately, that’s not the case for everybody. I think that’s what people aim to do… At one point, I was skating for sponsor teams before I took a step back. That was my choice, because once you start skating for profit and messing with other people’s livelihoods, it changes how much you can enjoy it. For me, it was really affecting the way I skated and how I felt when I skated. [Skating] is such a core part of me, I didn’t want to ever lose my love for it because of capitalism. I feel really comfortable with the choices I’ve made… I just want to help people get into skating because it’s brought me so much joy. M: So what is roller skating culture like in Richmond compared to the skateboarding community?
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M: Based on the people I’ve talked to, it seems that the skating community is very welcoming. They mentioned that it’s kind-of hard to get into, but as soon as they make one friend, they make 30 friends. I think that’s a really cool thing for Richmond to have. K: It’s really special. When I travel, I really try to take in the feel of every local scene, but Richmond feels very different, even though I live here. I just feel immediately at home, like I’ve known these people my entire life. The only other places I’ve felt it as strongly are the Baltimore and Atlanta skate scenes. [The scene you’re in] also changes the way that people skate. Are they a more aggressive skater? Or, are they more lax and just doing it to hang out and be around people? I’d like to think I can do both. M: Are things the same in roller skating? Do you have a style? K: Absolutely, yeah. I would consider myself to be a transition skater or a bowl/pool skater, so I’m more of a “flowy” person. I like to go fast and aggressive with my line, but I still find my own fluid style. A lot of people in the Richmond skate scene are street skaters, which requires them to be a lot more technical and precise... I’m not a great street skater because I don’t like hitting flat ground very hard.
M: How do you bring roller skating and art together when you skate? K: Music is a really massive part of how I skate. I’ll skate better if I have the right playlist on. It’s all about comfortability and how I move my body… For me, if I can tune out and really be in my body and find that flow, it really helps me tap into some stuff. It’s very freeing honestly… Healing actually comes from the repetitiveness of falling over and over again, pushing ourselves to go harder. It’s just a different type of therapy in some ways. M: I know the skateboarding community has their own unique fashion style. Are roller skating and fashion tied together in the same vein? K: In some ways, it just depends. There are certain brands out there, like Moxie, that have built themselves on the California aesthetic. At one point, it was hyper femininity, but on the East Coast, skating
in really cold conditions and on grittier concrete changes the way that people want to dress, to protect their skin and feel comfortable. In the winter, we’re all in jeans, trying to find something comfortable to breathe in. Unfortunately, jeans aren’t going to move as well when you have knee pads on, so you have to adapt. It’s really interesting to see the different types of styles. I do think, across the board for skateboarding and roller skating, crop tops are it. M: I know the skateboarding community is mostly dominated by men. What is the roller skating community like for women? K: I think we’re starting to see a bit of a mix in the roller skating scene. A lot of that has to do with inline blading coming back into style because that was more male dominated. Now that the communities are bleeding together, we’re seeing a little bit of both... In the roller skating scene, it’s much more women-focused. There are more femmepresenting people. Most of my friends are non-binary or trans. You see that kind of blend a little bit more in roller skating. In skateboarding, I think it’s happening, but it’s just not as prominent because of a lot of toxic masculinity that previously existed. I would say part of the reason roller skating took off is that a lot of women were looking to get into something that didn’t feel quite as masculine, something where they could feel comfortable in themselves. I like to think that everybody is opening their minds about what different sports they can do. M: Is Richmond’s roller skating community inclusive to women and trans people? K: I think the Richmond skate scene in general has gotten so big that it has kindof branched off into smaller pockets of groups, versus four years ago, we all knew each other. For myself, being someone that tried really hard for a long time to create a community here for roller skaters, I feel like I understand that it is really precious to be close to one another. I’ve held on to that to this day. But, you know, we have so many new people coming in so hopefully they’ll find that space for themselves as well.
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ENCHANTED THREADS
“I just try to have fun with it all. Who is anybody to judge anybody else? I choose to wear what I wear because I think it’s fun. This is my way of expressing myself.” Based on Interview with Thomas Vu of Kicks Boomin Art By: Roman Diascro
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Looking Down - Oona Schreur
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St. Wear - Victor Kuye
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